Concrete Walls
by Hywar
Summary: After finding out that Rose has been sealed in an alternate universe, Jack decides the Doctor could use some comfort. Set shortly after Last of the Timelords, slight spoilers. Mild Jack/Doctor slash.


He was surprised the TARDIS had even let him in, what with its (prejudice, in his mind) hatred of him. He had pushed on the blue doors merely to satisfy his own curiosity, not expecting them to creak open. Hell, shouldn't the doors have been locked, anyway?

That train of logic got him nowhere, considering the doors were not, in fact, locked, and they did push open when his hand pressed against them. That alone told him that the Doctor must be present – he would never leave the TARDIS unlocked if he wasn't inside, especially after just dealing with its loss. Even if he hadn't known that, right upon entering he was greeted with the Doctor's back, his suit a tad bit ill-fitting (a side effect of the aging and shrinking process, perhaps?). For as loud as the door creaked, the Doctor didn't move, didn't even flinch. His form remained motionless, the only sign he was alive the faint rustle of fabric and slight heave of his shoulders as he breathed.

Jack quietly made his way around the consul, all-too-worried about why the Doctor would be ignoring him. He knew the TARDIS has a telepathic link with the older man, and if the machine truly hated his presence as much as he had been lead to believe, she certainly must have voiced her displeasure by now.

Even as he moved closer the Doctor remained still. Jack was just starting to see his face; his eyes trained on the other man's downcast ones, tracing his line of sight down to find what had distracted the Doctor so.

Ah. A shirt. The Doctor was clutching a shirt in his hand, faded and worn the rustle of fabric seemingly louder now that Jack knew the source of it. The Doctor's hands wrung the shirt continuously, and, looking closer, Jack could just barely see what he believed to be darker patches – damp patches? Had the Doctor been crying?

"I take it you've already tried to bring her back."

The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them, before he had a moment to recognize the weight of them. The Doctor momently dropped the shirt, flinching away as if it had burned him before recognition sparked in his brown eyes and he surged forward, grabbing it before it hit the floor. He made to turn towards Jack but stopped, hesitant, finally deciding to simply turn his head towards the immortal man.

"That's the thing about parallel worlds. They're great for keeping people alive, less so for keeping in touch. It's not a locked door, Jack, it's a concrete wall. There is no bringing her back, no way of even seeing her." As good as the Doctor was keeping his voice level; his body would make him a terrible poker player. His eyes had fallen away from Jack's face and back onto the twisted fabric he still clung to, his hands wrapping themselves up in the stretched-out shirt.

"Martha seems like a sweet girl. I'm sure she could help, if you let her." The Doctor's hands paused for a brief moment, and Jack internally whooped with joy. Finally, he had come up with something even the Doctor hadn't thought of.

"I'm sure she could have. But she's gone. Left. Didn't want to waste her life waiting around. I can't suppose I blame her, but now I'm alone again. Last of the Timelords, traveling alone. Nine hundred years old and I still can't find a companion willing to put up with me. Even the Master wouldn't, the last of my kind chose _death_ over being around me."

By the end of the rant the Doctor's entire being had begun to betray him, his breath labored and his voice clipped and rising in volume. The shirt he had clung to was thrown to the floor unceremoniously, getting caught under the Doctor's foot as he moved to kick it away. He wasn't crying, no, not yet, but his eyes shown with more than anger, more than simple deep emotion. And even as his hands clenched into fists, even as it became clear it would be best to leave him to calm down, Jack found himself stepping closer to the Timelord. He took small steps, unwilling to capture the man's irate attention, until eventually he was close enough to touch.

His hands reached out of their own accord, pausing for but a moment before they came into contact with the back of the Doctor's suit, first applying pressure and then beginning to stroke up and down, stroking the soft fabric. The Doctor stiffened and at first Jack was certain he was going to yell, turn away and order Jack to leave. But then, his brown eyes caught on those of the younger man and Jack could see the dam keeping him in check break. Too fast for Jack to think, the Doctor had fallen into him, crashing their bodies together as the Doctor fought for more contact. Jack ran on autopilot, his arms automatically reaching around to hug the larger man to his chest, attempting to cradle him as they half-fell on the floor, Jack managing to catch his body against the side of the consul and slowly drag them both down. The Doctor sat between his legs, face pressed against Jack's throat, his hands now twisted in the captain's shirt. Jack kept one hand on the small of the Doctor's back; keeping them pressed together while the other traveled up and nestled into the man's thick hair.

They sat like that for a while; body's linked together preventing either party from moving away without the consent of the other. Jack continued to stroke the shivering Doctor, letting out a brief sigh of relief as he began to calm down, his cries less frantic. When the Doctor finally went to pull away he was stopped, Jack increasing the strength of his grip. He glanced up and blinked his red-rimmed eyes, his hands disentangling from Jack's shirt and moving to press away from the warm body. Jack relented, barely, allowing the Doctor to heave himself up but still keeping him sitting between his legs.

"Doctor," He started, only to be cut off by the talkative man's sudden rambling

"I'm fine, Jack, but thank you. Don't know what came over me, lack of sleep probably. Yes, that's it. Lack of sleep, been a busy year – or rather, lack thereof. I should be going, though, places to see, people to help. And you, you should be getting back on over to Torchwood, hm? Wouldn't want to give them another reason to want me dead, not this soon anyway. So, yes, you go on back – do you need a ride there, is that why you're here? I can give you _mmph-_" The rest of the Doctor's rant was distorted, Jack's fingers pressed against the Doctor's still-moving lips in an effort to shush him. Jack couldn't help but smile at his failed attempt, the Doctor starring cross-eyed at his fingers, lips still moving though by now no sound came out. Jack's hand shifted around, the pad of his thumb pressing between the Doctor's lips as his hand held the Doctor's cheek.

"I don't need a ride, Doc. And if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not go back for a while yet."

"What do you intend on doing? Martha wants to be left alone, Jack, don't go bothering her-"

"I'm not going to bother Martha!"

"Then _what_ do you plan on doing?"

"_You!_ I mean, not _you_ per say, but _with _you, I mean. Travel. Travel with you, there we go. I want to travel with you."

"No, you're a fixed point, an impossible thing, the TARDIS went to the end of the universe to escape you, she's not going to go _anywhere_ with you here."

"Well, she let me in, didn't she!" Jack threw his hands up, exasperated, head banging against the metal of the consul. Reaching up, he kneaded his eyes, irritation pouring out of him.

"The door was locked. I locked it. How did you get in?"

"Your age is starting to show, Doc. The door wasn't locked, opened right up for me."

Popping his eyes open, Jack could see the Doctor tense up, his eyes widening as he stared up at the center of the TARDIS. His lips were moving, whispering words too quietly for Jack to hear, and from the slight pauses he gave it was evident he was talking to the blue box.

Jack's eyes found themselves trained on the Doctor's mouth, watching as it moved, the lean man's tongue occasionally darting out to run along slightly-chapped lips.

Finally the Doctor stopped, nodding his head to himself and carding his hands through his thick hair.

"You understand what you're getting yourself into?"

"Oh, most definitely. You forget, Doc, I'm the man who can never die. What better qualification could you have for a companion?" Jack flashed the man a cheeky grin, forcing his eyes to refocus on the Doctor's still-troubled ones.

"No, I don't think I'll ever forget that, Jack." Hoisting himself up off the floor, the Doctor made a show of dusting off his wrinkled suit before offering a hand down to Jack. Rolling his eyes, the young captain accepted the help, allowing the Doctor to tug him up.

"Well then. Welcome aboard, Captain."


End file.
